Spark of Goodness
by WinterSky101
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale take the Them out for a picnic.


**Really just a fluffy piece about Crowley and Aziraphale spending some time with their "godson" and his friends. Because there's no way to link footnotes on here, I just have them directly following the paragraph the footnote is in.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Good Omens.**

* * *

Aziraphale shot Crowley a dirty and decidedly un-angelic look from the back seat of the Bentley. Even with Crowley's sunglasses on, Aziraphale knew he had winked in response. One picked up on such things when they were part of an Arrangement that had lasted as long as theirs.

Normally, Aziraphale would sit in the front, next to Crowley. However, they'd decided to take their godfather* duties a bit more seriously - at least, Aziraphale had, then he'd dragged Crowley into it - and thus, they were going out for a picnic with the Antichrist (AKA the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness, or, as his friends called him, Adam Young). Adam had insisted that they bring along his friends, so all of the Them were packed in the Bentley.

*Although Aziraphale and Crowley had technically declared themselves the godfathers of Warlock, not Adam, they reasoned that they'd meant to be the godfathers of the Antichrist, and the fact that they'd watched over the wrong boy for eleven years didn't make that any less true.

The issue was that a 1926 Bentley had five seats, and while that could potentially be worked around, Crowley was not about to let anyone mess with his beloved car. Unfortunately, Crowley, Aziraphale, and the four Them made six people/beings. And Adam had claimed the front seat, so Aziraphale had graciously ceded it to him. One did not argue with the Antichrist about which seat he sat in, after all, not if one was wise. Aziraphale liked to think that he was.

Therefore, the back seat held Pepper, Wensleydale, Brian, and Aziraphale. There were three seats, and considering Aziraphale was the most difficult to kill - discorporate, he would always correct - it was decided that he would go without a seat.

Except the back seat was in no way made to fit three eleven year olds and one slightly-portly** angel. It really wasn't very comfortable for Aziraphale at all, hence the glare. Crowley was amused. Aziraphale was decidedly not.

**Crowley thought that Aziraphale was more than slightly portly, but saying such a thing would only earn him the darkest glare an angel could muster, so he didn't often say it aloud. He saved those comments for the most effective times.

"Are you alright, Mr. Fell?" Wensleydale asked as Aziraphale gripped the back of Crowley's seat.

"Quite alright, thank you, my dear," Aziraphale replied, although he still had a fairly dirty look focused on the front seat. Crowley smirked and, at the next light, stopped far more suddenly than he had to. "Oh!" Aziraphale cried as he slammed into the back of Crowley's seat. Crowley chuckled.

"That wasn't very nice," Wensleydale admonished.

"Well, he _is_ a demon," Brian countered.

"So's Adam," Pepper put in. "Well, sort of. And he's nice."

"Adam tried to end the world," Crowley protested. Adam shot him a dirty look.

"I changed my mind," he retorted. "Anyway, I don't think it matters if you're an angel or a demon or a human. Anyone can be mean. Look at Greasy Johnson." Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale murmured in agreement. Aziraphale and Crowley, who weren't entirely sure who this "Greasy Johnson" was, both had their own assumptions.*** They decided that, given the reactions from the Them, it had been a good analogy.

***Both suspected he was a demon; Aziraphale thought he sounded rather nasty, but Crowley thought he sounded like one of the bastards down in Hell who thought himself much better than he was. Neither of them had any idea why Adam had used him as an example.

"Crowley was still being rude," Wensleydale protested. Adam glared at Crowley, who shrank back from the look.

"I'm not going to apologize," he quickly protested. "But if you're going to get all worked up about it, I'll drive more carefully, I suppose."

"That would be appreciated, my dear," Aziraphale replied, the passive-aggression in his voice almost tangible. Crowley winced slightly as he eased up on the gas; he had learned over the past six thousand years that Aziraphale only got that passive-aggressive when he was very irritated.**** Messing with the angel was all well and good, but there was a point at which Crowley needed to stop so as not to cause a huge argument between the two, the likes of which the world hadn't seen in years. Aziraphale wasn't quite there yet, but if Crowley didn't take a step back, he'd be there soon.

****Aziraphale had various levels of irritated passive-aggression, which Crowley had documented over the years. The first was a basic, low-level amount, which wasn't uncommon. He didn't start using the term "my dear" in his passive-aggressive comments until he got to the higher levels, at which point Crowley knew he either had to stop messing with Aziraphale or be prepared for an argument.

Crowley was mostly law-abiding in the way he drove for the rest of the ride. When they finally arrived at a nice little field - their chosen picnic spot - the children raced out of the car, leaving Aziraphale and Crowley to take out the picnic blanket and basket.

"Did you pack the wine, angel?" Crowley asked, hoping the teasing would soften Aziraphale's irritated expression.

"I told you we wouldn't be bringing wine while we were out with the children," Aziraphale retorted snippily. Crowley supposed he'd have to work a bit harder.

"I did bring some chocolate," Crowley wheedled. He could see Aziraphale's resolve weaken. "Dark chocolate, your favorite. I brought a whole extra bar, just for you." Crowley had actually only brought one for everyone to share, but he could snap another one up easily. He'd just have to be sure to give that one to the kids and give the original to Aziraphale, so he wouldn't realize it.

"Don't try your temptations out on me, serpent," Aziraphale replied, but he no longer sounded anywhere near as firm. Crowley grinned.

"We can go to the Ritz later," he added. "I'll pay. And I'll let you have some of my dessert." Aziraphale always stole Crowley's dessert, so that wasn't really giving anything up, but it sounded nice.

"That does sound nice," Aziraphale croaked. Crowley almost had him.

"We want this to be a nice day for the kids, right?" he asked, and Aziraphale was a goner.

"Very well," he sighed. "I forgive you, my dear."

"What?" Crowley spluttered, very aware that Aziraphale had suddenly turned the tables. "I... I didn't apologize! I don't apologize*****! I'm a demon!"

*****This was mostly true, although Crowley had apologized a few times, almost always to Aziraphale. The latest occasion was when Crowley accidentally talked a young man into joining in on an assassination plot that wouldn't have worked if the boy hadn't been there. There weren't many things Crowley would apologize for, but accidentally starting the First World War was one of them.

"It won't be a very nice picnic for the children if you don't apologize," Aziraphale countered. Crowley glared at him, tipping his sunglasses down his nose to reveal his eyes and thus get across the full effect of the glare. It did no good; Crowley glared at Aziraphale too often for it to retain much of an effect.

"Blesssssss it, angel," he swore in a hiss. "I'm not apologizing, but if you think I have, then I won't stop you." It was as close as they'd get to a compromise, which they'd done before. Aziraphale smiled serenely.

"Very well, dear boy," he replied. "Where shall we set up the picnic?"

The picnic was a success; the Them played Apocalypse, with each of them taking the place of one of the Horsemen, and Aziraphale remained blissfully unaware that Crowley had snapped up the second chocolate bar. Adam relinquished the front seat to Aziraphale on the way back, as he and the rest of the Them fit across the back seat a lot better than Aziraphale and three of the children had.

"Adam is remarkably nice, all things considered," Aziraphale remarked after he and Crowley had dropped the Them off in Lower Tadfield.

"He's a good kid," Crowley replied, nodding. "His dad must be disappointed."

"Hmm." Aziraphale frowned slightly. "You haven't heard anything from Hell, have you?"

"Not a word," Crowley replied, shaking his head. "What about you? The feathery bastards upstairs giving you any trouble?"

"None at all," Aziraphale replied. "It really was quite good of Adam to protect us like that."

"He's a good kid," Crowley repeated. Aziraphale snuck a sideways look at Crowley.

He hadn't been lying when he'd said there was a spark of goodness in Crowley.

And perhaps, if the Devil's own child could be good, it shouldn't be so surprising that a demon could be as well.


End file.
